


In a Manner of Speaking

by Ediblecrayon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, Lightsaber dildos, M/M, Mentions of fruit shaped sex toys, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sexual Content, Slice of Life, The intarweb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ediblecrayon/pseuds/Ediblecrayon
Summary: A drabble and ficlet collection of snapshots and possibilities.This will largely feature Stucky and Evanstan but I am willing to consider/accept general prompts or other ships.





	1. Something Yellow- Chris/Sebastian

**Author's Note:**

> Please check my [tumblr](https://edible-crayon.tumblr.com/post/162862678319/open-for-prompts) for what I will and will not write.
> 
> This chapter is for velvetjinx, who requested "Evanstan, reunited, and bananas." You can guess where my mind wandered off to.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian brings back a souvenir and Chris has a bout of nostalgia.

Chris blinks, then glances down at the plastic package in his hand. Blinks again. Pinches himself. Closes his eyes and counts to three, opens them again. Still not hallucinating. Perhaps he’s just lucid dreaming. 

“This is a dream,” he says aloud, placing the package on the bedside table and backing away as though it might explode. “A fucking nightmare, actually.” He’s clinging to the last shreds of hope, that this can’t be real. Unfortunately the cackling behind him says otherwise. And Chris _knows_ that cackle anywhere.

“Nope,” Sebastian manages to wheeze through howls of laughter, “Not a dream. Although the fact that that was your first conclusion makes me wonder what kinds of weirdass dreams you’ve been having. We both know you won’t tell me the embarrassing ones.”

Chris just continues to stare at the silicon monstrosity Seb had presented him with upon unpacking his suitcase. “Where the ever loving fuck did you even _find_ this? Why did you _buy_ it? Why does it _exist?”_

It’s another minute before Seb is finally able to regain control of himself, though he’s still wearing a dopey ass smile and looking extremely smug. “What can I say, I had some free time between filming.” He grins, wide and wicked. “That, and I might have been streaming Not Another Teen Movie at the hotel.”

“So you decided to go sex shop hopping looking for a fucking _banana shaped dildo?”_

Seb tries to school his features into something casual and fails miserably, shoulders already beginning to shake again. “Couldn’t help it. There’s something about Jake Wyler that’s just so damn endearing, and I wanted to bring you back something we could both appreciate.” He lasts for another thirty seconds under Chris’s glare before he cracks, flopping back onto the bed in hysterics.

“Yuck it up asshole.” Chris picks the dildo back up and twacks Seb in the leg with it before tossing the package on his chest. “If you think I’m putting that any where near my ass you’re out of your mind. I already did it for that shitty romcom, and at least I got paid.”

Sebastian sits up, clutching the toy as he continues to laugh. “Does that mean you’ll let _me_ put it near your ass? Or you putting it near mine? What about--” He’s promptly cut off by a pillow to the face. 

“I hate you. I’m never having sex with you again.” Chris tosses the bird over his shoulder and starts rifling through the abandoned suitcase. “And you stole my favorite hoodie you dick.”

Seb grins, wide and huge and beautiful. It’s a pretty great look on him. “You love my dick.” He rolls to the side of the mattress to smack a loud kiss to the side of Chris’s cheek. “And you love _meeee._ ”

Chris bats him away, ducking his head so Seb can’t see the smile tugging at his lips. “Eh, I guess you’re okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come stalk me on [Tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/edible-crayon)


	2. Prime Customer- Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky develops a mild obsession with Amazon Prime.

It all starts with a single package. 

Steve recognizes the signature brown box and blue packing tape before he even sees the logo. That’s not the strange part. The strange part is that he’s never recalled ordering from Amazon before; he doesn’t even have an account. What’s the point when there’s a plethora of stores all over Brooklyn? 

He’s thinking it’s possibly a mistake when Bucky appears over his shoulder and lights up at the sight of the box. “Oh hey, they’re here. They really weren’t kidding about that two day shipping thing huh?”

And that’s how the Harry Potter collection winds up on their bedroom bookshelf.

* * *  
The next time it’s even more of a surprise than the first. 

Steve’s been on a mission for the past few days, and he’s looking forward to finally being back home. Bucky doesn’t really assist unless absolutely needed; he prefers to live a quiet life without fighting, and Steve’s more than happy to give him that. He’s walking through the front door filthy and bone-tired, only to be greeted by the site of about five open Amazon boxes scattered across the living room. There’s a giant bean-bag chair lounging in front of a sci-fi filled bookshelf that most certainly wasn’t there before. Bucky’s hooking up an X-Box One to a modest flat-screen, and there’s a mountain of game cases piled beside him. He turns from where he’s wrestling with the console wires to give Steve a wave and a soft smile before returning to the task at hand.

Steve opens his mouth, pauses, then closes it and heads to the shower. It’s probably best not to ask.

* * *  
It keeps snowballing from there. Prime boxes pop up outside their door on the regular, and it starts to become part of their routine. Wake up, go for a run, come back to shower, hurtle over the Amazon boxes, coffee. It’s actually kind of exciting in a way, Steve’s found himself looking forward to see what ridiculous thing Bucky has ordered next. Admittedly he was skeptical at first, but Bucky was right; the Keurig is pretty fucking sweet. Not only that, but Bucky seems lighter, loose and relaxed as he selects a book or game to occupy himself with. And if this is what helps chase away the shadows of Hydra, Steve is more than happy to indulge him.

Fairy lights and vintage posters for their bedroom. Fluffy throw pillows and fleece blankets that find a home on their sofa. Colorful appliances to brighten up the kitchen, a record player. And okay, maybe Steve gets a little emotional when Bucky frog marches him to one of the guest rooms to where he’s apparently set Steve up with a makeshift art studio. From the looks of it Bucky probably bought out Amazon’s entire art stock.

What really gets him though is the second bean-bag, portable DVD player, and stack of books on one side of the room where Bucky’s set up a spot to watch Steve while he works. He thinks he might hug Bucky a little too long and little too hard after that, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. Just gives Steve a soft kiss and nudges him forward with a knowing smile, as if he can tell how much Steve’s yearning to put his new space to use.

“Come on, punk. Get to work.”

* * *  
They’re squashed together on the bean-bag in what Steve’s come to call The Bucky Corner when he finally decides to bring up the question that’s been lingering in the back of his mind for the past couple of months. 

“Okay, I have to ask,” Steve says, taking a brief moment to shoot the zombie clown before pausing the game they’ve been playing. “Obviously I don’t mind all the online shopping. I have more army back-pay than I know what to do with and I’m thrilled you’re enjoying yourself, it’s been great for you. But what made you decide to open an Amazon account in the first place?”

Bucky eyes him thoughtfully, tapping his monster slipper clad feet together. Then he places his controller on his lap and hooks his fingers through Steve’s with a smile that’s both happy and sad in equal measure. “I wanted to make a safe place for us, someplace you’d actually feel comfortable coming home to. When I first moved in this place was so goddamn cold and sterile, felt like your apartment came right of a showroom. Don’t deny it,” he adds, jabbing a finger at Steve when he opens his mouth to interject. “We both know you didn’t bother with anything because you hated it; you barely stayed unless you had to sleep or shower. And I get that. I wouldn’t want to stay in someplace so empty either, especially not without you. You’ve been a little better since I came back, but still. This place didn’t really feel like _ours._ So,” he concludes, spreading his arms, “figured I’d personalize it a bit.”

“And the internet thing,” Bucky looks down, and Steve sees a hint of embarrassment flicker in his eyes, “It’s still, you know--difficult. For me to go outside sometimes. Be around people. It’s not so bad when we’re together, but by myself--it’s hard. This is a lot better. I don’t have to worry about fucking up or panicking. It’s safe. Plus, two day shipping.”

Steve brings their joined hands to his lips, squeezing his eyes shut against the wave of emotion that struck him. When he opens them again, he gives Bucky a gentle smile. “I’m proud of you,” he whispers, leaning forward to bump his nose against Buck’s.”So proud, Buck, you’ve come so far.”

“Yeah, don’t get soppy on me.” Bucky bats Steve away, but he’s grinning and his cheeks are pink with pride. “Now c’mon, we got a creepy amusement park to escape from.” He picks up his controller, finger hovering above the ‘A’ button before he glances back over. 

“Oh, Stevie? Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come stalk me on [Tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/edible-crayon)


	3. Pride- Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NYC Pride and appropriately themed food items.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly late to the party on a Pride drabble, sorry guys. 
> 
> For velvetjinx, who prompted Stucky, Pride, and cherry pie.

It still amazes Steve how different the future is from the forties. 

He glances out the window as a group of screaming teenagers in rainbow feather boas race by. The streets are filled with people, all decked out in various pride based colors. Everyone looks so damn happy and carefree, mingling with one another as they have the time of their lives. 

He’s roused from his thoughts by the scraping of a chair as Bucky drops down across from him, sliding Steve a slice of cherry pie. There’s a tiny rainbow flag sticking out of it, and it makes him smile. They’ve taken refuge from the heat in a local cafe, and the owners had gone all out to show their support. Steve looks over to see what Bucky’s chosen for himself, and he feels his eyebrows shoot to his hairline. Bucky has a cup in front of him filled to the brim with some sort of pastel, sugar laden monstrosity, and he grins when he sees Steve’s dumbfounded expression. “Unicorn coffee,” he says simply, as though that explains everything.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “I don’t see what one has to do with the other.”

Bucky roll his eyes and jabs a finger at his t-shirt, which does, indeed, have a horned horse on it. “You know, unicorns? Magical creatures with horns and sparkles that shit rainbows? They’re like the official gay mascot.” He eyes Steve knowingly over the mountain of cream and sprinkles takes a sip of his beverage. “What are you thinking about? You looked like you got lost in your head again.” 

“Just...I can’t believe we’re here. That we can actually do this without getting arrested.” Steve picks the flag out of his pie, twirling it between his fingers. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s still a lot of bigotry and hatred out there, but there’s a lot of love now too. And we don’t have to worry about keeping up appearances anymore.” Steve waves a hand between them to illustrate his point, glancing down at his “World’s Okayest Pansexual” t-shirt as he does so. He’s never felt comfortable wearing anything too flashy, so he’d kept it simple, just a t-shirt and wrist-band. Bucky on the other hand looks the epitome of queer hipster. His hair is pulled back in a messy bun with with pink, blue, and purple ribbons, topped with a pair of garish sunglasses in the same color scheme. His flesh arm is decked out in an assortment of bisexual pride bracelets. He’s even wearing a pair of converse that Natasha helped him dip-dye for the occasion. He’s as beautiful as he’s ever been, but this time he actually looks _happy._

He receives a soft smile as Bucky twines his metal fingers through Steve’s flesh ones. “Yeah, pal, me either. Pretty great, ain’t it?” Bucky scoops some whipped topping off his coffee and boops Steve on the nose with it, smirking widely. “Now hurry up and eat your damn pie, I don’t want to miss LeAnn Rimes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come stalk me on [Tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/edible-crayon)


	4. Multi-Purpose Function- Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky discovers the wonders of life hacks. Eventually, so does Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For velvetjinx, for requested "Stucky, pizza, and creative use of household items."

As much as Tony liked to crack grandpa jokes whenever opportunity arose, Steve’s actually more than capable of living in the future. Sure, there was plenty of pop culture to catch up with, but apart from that he’d found himself acclimating quite easily. He finally finished his list, and to everyone’s absolute delight he’s gotten into many a heated debate with bigots on the street. Most of them have made it to Youtube, and there’s a particularly good one of a group of Westboro Baptist members scurrying away from Steve’s declarations of “No ma’am, I wouldn’t label myself as a cocksucker, my talents extend far beyond that.” It had instantly gone viral, despite the shitty cellphone quality and Clint cackling in the background.

Bucky, though. Bucky had taken to the future like a duck to water. He still had trouble socializing with anyone not of the team, and he liked to fill his spare time by soaking up everything the Internet had to offer. Sometimes tumblr or twitter, but mostly Youtube. And Steve was glad, really he was. He enjoyed the dozens of cat videos Bucky sent him, the recipes he tried his hand at. The pineapple pan pizza had been a particular hit.

And then there were the life hacks. That was a bit of a grey area. Admittedly, some of them were pretty fantastic. Their produce lasted longer, the house was cleaner, and for the most part they were damn useful. Sure, there was that mix-up with the pancake mix in the ketchup bottle, and Steve was still pretty skeptical about using the iron for grilled cheese instead of its intended purpose. But Bucky was having the time of his life and who was Steve to discourage him?

Then Steve got home one day to find Bucky in the bathroom spraying the dog in vinegar and he knew he had to put his foot down. “Buck,” he asked, slowly, “what are you doing to Murphy?”

Bucky didn’t even bother to look up from where he was spritzing their Cocker Spaniel. “Vinegar keeps their coats shiny.” 

Steve absolutely did not face-palm. “Okay, but how is that going to prevent Murphy from smelling like a salad?”

Bucky glanced up, the unspoken _duh_ coming across loud and clear. “That’s what the baking soda’s for.”

“Uh huh. And how is that coming out?”

Buky arched an eyebrow. “Water? You use it in place of shampoo. I already checked, it’s safe as long as we keep it away from his eyes.”

Steve rubbed at his temples, picking up a jar on the counter. “And I guess this is for post dog bath?” he asked, rolling the jar around in his hand and watching the liquid slosh delicately. He cracked open the top, smelling peppermint and coconut. 

“Oh,” Bucky said, grabbing the shower hose, a casual smirk spreading on his lips. “That’s for us. Figured we could try it out later. It’s all natural, and we were running low on slick anyway.” He turned on the water, testing the temperature while he waited for Steve’s response. 

There was a quiet snick as Steve replaced the lid on the jar, bending down to smack a kiss to Bucky’s hair and pet Murphy between the ears. “Wellll,” he drawled, “I am covered in giant rat entrails. Was thinking I’d take a shower, if you wanna join me, and we can give that stuff a try.”

Bucky drizzled some water on a handful of baking soda, rubbing the paste on Murphy’s fur. He tossed a grin over his shoulder, expression growing when he saw Steve’s eyes darken. “Let me finish up and de-fur the tub and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

* * *  
“So?” Bucky asks later as they demolish a pineapple and pepperoni pan pizza in bed, still shower damp and smelling of coconut. 

Steve wrapped a stack of pineapple and pepperoni in cheese and held it out for Bucky to eat from his fingers. “I think,” he said, smiling fondly when Bucky sucked pizza sauce from his thumb, “we’re gonna have to stock up. Gotta be prepared, right?”

Bucky nodded wisely. “Definitely,” he agreed, then knocked the empty plates to the floor so he could tackle Steve against the pillows.


	5. Nostalgia- Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys spend a peaceful day out, and Bucky reminisces on some beloved pastimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pick-me-up drabble for my dear friend velvetjinx, who deserves only the best.

It’s different here from the shops back in the old days, but nonetheless comforting. 

They’re in a brightly lit, independent hipster bookstore, surrounded by glowing sunlight and burning incense. There’s some soft rock playing instead of classical, and the manager is a young kid with an undercut and septum ring instead of a stern elderly man. There’s overstuffed mismatched furniture and a coffee bar in the back, and it’s not at all like the forties.

Bucky loves it.

He runs his gloved thumb down the worn spine of the book he’s holding, breathing in the smell of old wood and oil. He dips a flesh finger between the yellowed pages, smiling warmly at the caress of rough parchment on his fingertip. It’s a battered hardcover, a first edition of _The Catcher in the Rye_ , and there’s something about the gaudy red and yellow cover that pulls him in. 

He tucks it under his arm to join the ragged paperback of _Slaughterhouse Five_ , then glances around for a familiar head of blond hair and broad shoulders. It’s still considered early -before noon- and it’s only Wednesday, so the shop is relatively quiet, save for the occasional college student or bibliophile. It’s cozier, quieter, and the scant few customers and shopkeeper barely spare a glance for a former assassin and patriotic superhero. It’s soothing, the general tension in Bucky’s shoulders easing to make way for a peaceful contentedness. 

He finally spots Steve crouched down by an array of shelves tucked beside the coffee bar. His cap is pulled down low, but he’s pushed up his hungover-Hollywood-starlet sunglasses so he can give his full attention to the chatty little girl in front of him. She’s clutching _Little House in the Big Woods_ and is excitedly giving Steve the rundown of Laura Ingalls, curls bouncing and mouth pulled back in a wide gapped toothed grin. A apologetic young woman is attempting to whisk her away, but Steve gently waves her back, smiling softly as his new friend holds up the book cover for him to inspect. After a moment, he retrieves a book from the stack next to him and passes it to the little girl. It’s the original _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ , and Bucky smiles, remembering how Sarah Rogers used to read it to them as children, bundled in warm blankets with the yeasty scent of bread floating through the chilly apartment. It had been Steve’s favorite, and Bucky had continued the tradition of reading it to him while Steve was ill long after Sarah had passed.

With a high-pitched squeal and bone-crushing hug, the little girl flounces away, tugging her guardian after her; book tucked securely under a tiny arm. Bucky takes that as his cue to retrieve his partner before he attracts any other excitable children and ambles over. Most of the younger ones don’t even recognize Captain America; Steve just has a warmness to him that never fails to attract kids, especially in places like this. Bucky’s just thankful they’re not at an art store, for some reason the kids there always come in paint-splattered droves.

Bucky steps up to where Steve is still kneeling with that sunshine smile, and nudges him with his knee. “I can’t believe you just sacrificed our childhood past-time to one of your fan club. Really, Steve, that stings.”

Steve rolls his eyes, lips quirking. “Like I don’t know you managed to sweet talk the curator at the Smithsonian into giving back my mom’s old copy.”

Bucky shrugs, completely unabashed at being found out. “They pilfered enough for their damn exhibit, giving that back was the least they could do.” It’s not a secret that neither of them are a fan of the Captain America exhibit, but Bucky’s far more vocal about his disdain for.

Steve straightens up with his books, eyes soft and grateful as he tangles his free hand with Bucky’s. “I know, Buck. You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. I can’t begin to thank you enough for that.”

Bucky ducks his head, cheeks warm, but he squeezes Steve’s hand back all the same. “Don’t have to thank me punk, you know I’d take back everything in that damn exhibit that meant something to you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says fondly, quietly, smiling down at their joined hands, and dammit if Bucky’s heart doesn’t burst at the sight. “I know you would.”


	6. Power of the Dark Side- Chris/Sebastian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star Wars is serious business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the always lovely velvetjinx, who requested Evanstan, Star Wars, and family members.

Friday Movie Night with Chris’s little brother is always an adventure.

Scott’s a self-proclaimed cinephile so not only is he an extreme pain in the ass but he always has to have the last word. After debating between no less than four different films, one of them, -although which one is up for debate because neither of them are willing to admit it- in the frenzy of cinematic debate, had suggested Star Wars. 

Big mistake, because that had just opened up a whole other can of worms.

Ninety minutes later, after a heated argument between Chris and Scott as to which film in the series was superior, Sebastian suggested _Rogue One_ in a desperate bid to maintain his sanity. Thankfully, the brothers Evans had deemed this an acceptable choice.

Not that that stopped Scott from turning every scene of the movie into a state of discourse.

“Seriously, what are you even on about, Stan?” he asked, waving his lollipop in disbelief. “How can you prefer the Sith when all the dark side characters in this movie are lame old guys? Like, okay, Vader’s awesome, but he’s barely existent in this one and Jyn is a total badass! And don’t _even_ get me started on the Jedi Order.”

Sebastian shrugged nonchalantly from where he was curled up on the opposite sofa with his fuzzy socked feet in Chris’s lap. “I just think they have much better development. Have you read the books? The characters on the Sith roster are amazing, and okay, Krennic was an ass, but _Vader._ He had five minutes of screen time and he still managed to kick Rebel ass. And even you admit Darth Maul was the only good thing about _The Phantom Menace.”_ He emphasised his point by waving the popcorn bowl like a victory flag.

Chris hummed in agreement, not bothering to tear his gaze away from the screen. “Seb _has_ always had a hard on for the red lightsaber. Especially when it’s in action,” he added, a tiny smirk curling his lips when Sebastian abruptly choked on his mouthful of popcorn.

Scott threw his arms up in frustration, completely oblivious to the sexual innuendo going on in front of him. “Not. An. Excuse.” He sank back against the couch, scowling as Chris pounded Sebastian on the back before he asphyxiated. 

Chris grinned. “The Power of the Dark Side always wins around here.”

* * *

“I hate you so fucking much,” Sebastian hissed later that night, spitting toothpaste into the sink like it personally insulted his mother. “I can’t believe you did that. _The Dark Side always wins around here,_ ” he mimicked, turning around to glare daggers at where Chris was lounging in the doorway clad in nothing but a pair of boxers. “You’re lucky your brother is so obtuse.”

Chris grinned, one hand on the doorframe, the other hanging out of sight. “Don’t you mean _you’re_ lucky that he didn’t realize that when I said you get a hard on, I was being completely literal?”

Seb flipped him off. “Fuck you.”

Chris leaned forward to drop a kiss on Sebastian’s hair, cackling. “I could go for that.” He raised the hand that had been hidden from view, displaying two glowing dildos; one red, one blue. “Light Side, or Dark Side?”


	7. What's in a Name- Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys adopt a stray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my dearest velvetjinx who requested Stucky, cats, and Harry Potter books. Took a bit of liberty with the last one, hope you enjoy!

“Myrtle?”

“No. James?”

Bucky scoffed. “Our cat is not sharing a name with me, Steven; he deserves his own. Sirius?”

Steve sent him his patented “Captain America is disappointed in you” look. “Bucky, no.”

“What? You’re the one who suggested a Harry Potter name.” Bucky rolled his eyes as he stroked the purring feline sitting on his lap. “Even though our dog is named after an _Irish punk band.”_

Steve raised a blonde eyebrow in challenge. “Yeah, and _who_ named Murphy again?”

“Barton,” Bucky responded without missing a beat, scratching ‘The Cat Who Was Yet to Be Named’ behind the ears. “So? Sirius is a great name.”

“Yeah, for a giant black dog, Buck.”

“Now that’s just prejudice.”

_”Bucky.”_

“Okay, fine.” Bucky glanced down at the cat thoughtfully, stroking the cat’s ginger fur. “Ginny?”

Steve leaned back against the sofa with a sigh. “I like it, but the cat’s a boy. Could stick with the Weasley theme, though. Ron?”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “Too mainstream. Percy?” His eyebrows shot up to his hairline when ‘He Who Had Yet to Be Named’ hissed vehemently. “Okay, that’s a no if I ever saw one.”

“He was the douche of the family,” Steve agreed sagely. “He’s a bit feisty, his name should reflect that.”

Both super soldiers glanced down at the cat again, golden-orange eyes half-slitted in contentment, tail curled around its scruffy body. It wasn’t the most attractive cat, given that they had found him sniffing around a dumpster, fur matted with filth. Steve, bless his big, stupid heart, had went into the nearest shop and bought it a can of tuna, which it devoured immediately. It had then proceeded to follow them towards home, and which point Steve “casually” suggested they stop at the vet to see if the cat has any sort of disease, so they could “drop it off at the nearest shelter, Buck; it’s getting colder and he deserves a home.”

Well, he had found a home all right. 

“”Just temporary” he says,” Bucky muttered, eyes darting up to glare at his partner who tossed an “aw shucks, Buck,” smile at him. “Temporary my ass.”

“Aw c’mon, Buck, Murphy needed a friend anyway.” He gestured to the Cocker Spaniel sniffing surreptitiously at TCWWYTBN. After appearing satisfied, Murphy plastered a big lick between the feline’s ears, and received a gentle bat of a paw in return. 

Then Steve got that twinkle in his eye, and he tilted his head from one side to the other in contemplation. Bucky followed his line of sight, and suddenly it seemed to click. 

“Crookshanks,” they declared in unison, the decision followed by a rumbling purr. 

Steve grinned, patting his lap for Murphy to hop onto it. “Now tell me you honestly would have been okay with dropping him off at the shelter.”

Bucky ducked his head, pressing his face against Crookshanks freshly washed fur. “I plead the fifth.”

“Softy.”

“Fuck off Rogers.”


	8. No Work and All Play- Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony puts together a kid's fantasy day, and the guys take some well deserved time off to help out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my dearest velvetjinx! I'm combining two prompts of Stucky, Red Bull, toys, and flowers.

The front grounds of the Avengers compound is in utter chaos.

Tony’s throwing a party for the all the recipients of his new Maria Stark Children’s Foundation, and the place is milling with eager, sickly children, joy bursting on their pale faces. Tony definitely went all out, the compound resembles a mini carnival. Sam’s giving kids rides with his flight suit, and Clint and Darcy have gathered a troop of kids to play some sort of parachute game. Red Bull even chipped in to donate a bounce house. Bucky’s pretty sure he never saw a kid with an IV pole run around so fast in his life.

Steve certainly couldn’t back then. 

He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought; today isn’t the day to be haunted by grim memories. And speaking of Steve-

Last Bucky saw him he was off by a booth designated for face painting. As apprehensive as Steve had been about taking the helm as artist, the man was a natural of it, and dozens of kids were running around painted as various animals, Avengers, and, somewhat concerning, a five year old Pennywise the Dancing Clown. Natasha had dragged him and Steve out to see it when it first hit theaters, and in his whole-heartened opinion, everyone who witnessed that film should be at least somewhat wary of clowns. 

Dodging a pair of youths on crutches, Bucky continues his search for his wayward boyfriend, heading towards the greenhouse at the back of the property. There’s a slip-n-slide set up a few yards away, but it’s otherwise rather peaceful. 

He’s finds Steve at the entrance of the giant terrarium, sitting at the center of a cluster of excitable kids. A young boy is painting Steve’s face in patriotic stars, and a little girl with a prosthetic leg is weaving a flower crown into Steve’s blond hair. Another boy is sat on Steve’s knees, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he plaits together a chain of daisies. Steve glances up when he hears him approaches, face splitting into a wide grin when he sees who it is. 

“Hey, Buck,” he greets, eyes soft and voice full of fondness, and damn the day that will ever fail to make Bucky’s heart flutter in his chest. “Wanna join the party?”

Bucky’s lips twitch, eyes crinkling with mirth. “You look mighty pretty, Stevie.”

“Damn straight,” Steve says proudly. “Ellie and Austin are the best artists I could have asked for. Speaking of,” he nudges the boy perched on his legs, who suddenly appears incredibly nervous. Peering closer, Bucky can sees patches of white on his otherwise tan skin. Vitiligo, his mind supplies helpfully. “Go ahead, Milo.”

Milo takes a deep breath before climbing to his feet, hands shaking so hard Bucky’s afraid he  
might shed the daisy chain he worked so hard at. He approaches Bucky like a spooked foal, then takes another breath before scrunching his face in determination and thrusting out the flowers hanging from his hands. 

“This is for you, Mr. Soldier,” he says uncertainly. “Mr. Stevie said daisies were your favorite.”

And okay, fuck Tony from organizing this thing because Bucky’s heart might explode from all the joy and kindness he’s experiencing today.

“Mr. Stevie’s right,” Bucky confirms gently, a smile crossing his lips. “It looks pretty swell, Milo.” He kneels down, tilting his head forward. “Would you mind doing me the honor?”

Milo’s nervous expression instantly melts into a gap-toothed grin, and he nearly trips over his own feet as surges forward, delicately braiding the daisies into Bucky’s thick brown locks. When he’s finished, he tilts his head to the side, then flings his arms around Bucky’s neck in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Mr. Soldier,” he mumbles into Bucky’s shoulder.

“You can call me Bucky, kid.”

“Thank you Mr. Bucky.”

Austin glances up from where he’d been decorating Steve’s face to wave at a girl easing her way down the hill, a brightly colored bag of art supplies attached to her walker. Then he turns to Bucky, face questioning. “Can we paint your face, Mr. Bucky? Lila’s really good at rainbows.’

Bucky flings himself down beside Steve, pecking the cheek not covered in red, white, and blue. Steve hooks his fingers through his in response, eyes open and full of love. 

“Sure thing, guys. Anything you want.”


	9. Bushel of Blackberry Brambles- Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint is a disaster and Bucky knows his boy scout shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my dear velvetjinx, who requested Stucky, blackberry bushes, and first aid.

“So let me get this straight,” Steve says flatly, eyebrows raised as he gives Barton his best “Captain-America-is-disappointed-in-you” face. “You fell in a thorn bush-”

“Blackberry bush,” Barton corrects cheerfully, smile replaced with a wince when Barnes tugs a bramble out with more force than necessary. “Brambles, you know.”

“And this was because-” Steve waves a hand towards where a battered and filthy puppy has made its home atop Lucky’s back. Lucky, for his part, just sits at parade rest, tongue lolling in all his one-eyed glory. 

“What? Little guy was all tangled in brambles and scratched to hell. No way I could leave him like that.”

“It’s Barton,” Bucky interrupts when Steve goes to open his mouth. He brushes away another bramble and applies ointment. “Are you really all that surprised?”

Clint sniggers when Steve snaps his mouth shut before turning to Bucky. “You’re pretty good at this nurse stuff. Guessing you’ve had previous experience with this one?” he asks, jerking his thumb in Steve’s direction.

“Yup,” Bucky affirms, popping the ‘p.’ “With back alley fights, plenty o’ times; falling in a blackberry bush, not so much.” He applies a piece of gauze to a scrape on Clint’s upper arm, binding it with coflex before continuing in a soft voice. “My sisters, though. They used to love berry picking. Always came home with their knees scratched up and dirty. Had lots of practice doing this on them.”

“So,” Steve clears his throat, changing the subject with the grace of an elephant, “what’re you gonna name this little guy.”

Clint grins widely. “B3. 

Bucky levels him with an unimpressed glare. “What.”

“Yanno.” Clint lifts a hand, counting off of his fingers. “Black. Berry. Bush.”

“Blackberry is one word.”

“Semantics. Still three ‘b’s in it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, securing the bandage before waving Clint away. “Whatever you say, Katniss. You’re all clear.”

Steve sidles up to him as they watch Clint head home with Lucky and B3 in tow. “He’s right, you know,” he says, slipping an arm around the other soldier’s shoulders. “You’ve always been great at taking care of others. Things may have changed, but that definitely hasn’t.” 

Bucky stares at the floor, flexing his metal hand nervously. “There’s a difference between patching up Barton and taking care of people.”

“Not really.” Steve hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder, smacking a kiss to his ear. “You’re great with Murphy and Crookshanks, and me. And who knows? One day we may have more additions to the household, and you’re going to be great with them too.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees quietly hand circling Steve’s wrist. “If you say it’s true it’s gotta be, right? Truth and justice and the American way and all that bullshit.”

Steve grins, bright like sunshine, his arm tightening around Buck’s shoulders. “Exactly.”


	10. Sweater Weather- Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky check out the local street fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my dear velvetjinx who requested stucky, flavored coffees, and The Smashing Pumpkins. It's subtle, but the reference is definitely in there!

There were a lot of great things to admire about the twenty-first century. The technology, the food, the company. Sure, the politics definitely needed some work, but ultimately the pros outweighed the cons.

Steve being able to hold hands with his boyfriend in public? Definitely one of the pros.

He was pulled from his train of thought when said boyfriend tugged him over to another booth at the local fall street festival they were attending. Bucky was holding a tray of at least three differently flavored coffees -Bucky had always had a fondness for the beverage but now? This was heaven- and was holding up a running commentary that could barely be heard behind his wool plaid infinity scarf. Some cover band singing about embers and a city by the lake was blaring from the speakers situated by a stage at the head of the main road, and the crisp Autumn wind had strewn the street with leaves. The whole thing was rather very hipster, but Bucky was in his element, so it was all well and good.

Bucky was also a hipster-in-denial, but that was an argument for another day. 

Natasha and Clint had wandered off to some booth that was displaying vintage arrowheads, leaving Steve with an over-caffeinated super-soldier. So far it was turning out to be a pretty decent day.

“Stevie,” Bucky said excitedly, “Stevie, they have _peanut butter coffee._ ”

Steve smiled softly. “Yeah, Buck. That’s pretty swell, but don’t you think you should finish the cups of pumpkin spice, mint chocolate, and vanilla almond first?”

Bucky glanced down at his forgotten cup tray and scowled. Steve bit back a laugh; between the messy bun, infinity scarf, over-sized sweater, and grumpy pout, Bucky looked pretty damn adorable.

“How about this,” Steve suggested, pecking his boyfriend on the cheek. “You try all of the _sample_ cups they put out, and then we’ll buy a bunch of bags of whatever you want. Deal?”

Bucky’s whole face lit up, and goddamn if it didn’t make Steve’s heart melt. 

“Deal,” Bucky agreed, sealing the deal with a coffee flavored kiss.


	11. Crowd Pleaser- Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avenger's movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For velvetjinx, who requested bats, Stucky, and Star Wars. Also includes references to Sharknado and Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.

“Tell me again why this is a good idea?”

Nat rolled her eyes and tossed a handful of popcorn in Bucky’s direction, smirking when he squawked in indignation. “It’s movie night,” she said simply, as though that explained everything. 

“I get that,” Buck muttered, brushing kernels out of his hair, “But why does it have to be _outside_ in the middle of _November_?”

“Ask Tony.”

“Asking Tony anything is usually a bad idea,” Steve piped up from where he was pressed against Barnes. “You usually end up with more questions than answers.”

“At least we’re on a heated rooftop patio,” Sam reasoned with a shrug, tipping back the rest of his beer. “We even have a giant projector screen. And it’s _Star Wars,_ man, be grateful Stark picked out a good movie. We could be watching that one with the sharks in the tornado or some shit.”

“Actually I’m pretty sure it was Rhodey who picked out the movie.” Steve tossed an arm over Bucky’s shoulders, smiling softly when the latter shimmied closer. “Clint was the one who wanted the sharks, and Tony was saying something about a musical with tomatoes. Apparently it’s a classic."

“I still say we should have gone with _Rocky Horror_ ,” Natasha mused, stretching her feet across Sam’s lap. “At least that’s a classic that doesn’t involve mutant produce.”

“Okay, movie night, fine. But why are we outside again?” Bucky complained, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up and sinking down into the throw pillows they were lounging on. “Heated patio or not, I’m freezing my ass off.”

Everyone politely ignored the reasoning behind Bucky and Steve’s extreme temperature sensitivity.

“Aw, come on Barnes,” Natasha drawled, gesturing up at the cluster of bats hanging from the rafters. “Enjoy the wildlife.”

Sam squinted in the direction she had indicated. “Is it bad my first thought is that you were talking about Barton?”

A soft _ping_ sounded, causing Steve to tug out his cellphone. “Bruce said he just dragged Tony out of the lab and they’ll be up soon. And Clint’s on his way with Laura and the kids.”

“Excellent.” Natasha leaned forward, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. “Now, boys. Originals, or prequels?”


	12. Leave a mark- Chris/Sebastian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You ever think about getting any tattoos?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of fun to write. I'm strangely proud of this one.

“You ever think about getting any tattoos?”

Sebastian cracks an eye open, lazily lifting his head a few inches from the pillow so he can focus on where Chris is going to town with a sharpie. From the looks of things, he’s abandoned his attempt at a unicorn and moved on to filigree dicks. 

“Not really,” he mumbles, dropping his head back down and letting his eyes slip shut again. “Why, y’think I should?”

“Maybe.” Chris places the marker cap between his teeth so he can adjust the angle of Seb’s leg with both hands, earning a soft groan. 

“Easy, I’m still sore.” 

Chris smirks, spitting the marker cap onto the rumpled sheets and dropping a kiss to Seb’s inner thigh. “Aw, don’t be like that. You know I always take care of you.”

Seb gives a drowsy, “mhm” in acquiescence. It’s true. Chris is frickin _awesome_ at post-sex massage and snuggles.

“Anyway,” Chris says, continuing his work with a steady hand and meticulous eye, “if you ever did get one, I would definitely approve.”

Seb raises an eyebrow without bothering to open his eyes, squirming a bit when the marker tip hits a ticklish spot. “What, you’re saying I’m not pretty enough for you like this?”

Chris makes a noise of protest, capping the sharpie and tossing it somewhere in the direction of the nightstand. If the resounding clatter is anything to go by, he missed. He props himself up on his forearms, then swings a leg up and over until he’s straddling Sebastian. With a contented hum, Seb slides a hand beneath his pillow; he brings the other up to Chris’s waist, running a thumb over the crease of his hip.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Chris leans forward to nip at Seb’s lower lip, earning a grunt for his efforts. “You already know I think you’re fucking perfect no matter what.”

“Huh, I dunno,” Seb says thoughtfully, popping both eyes open and looking like the cat that ate the canary. “My memory’s not at it’s best, these days. Might need you to remind me some.”

“Yeah?” Chris leans forward until they’re pressed chest to chest, expression full of mischief. “Need me to jog your memory there Seb?”

“I wouldn’t be against it, no.”

Chris sniggers, inching up to lick at the seam of Seb’s mouth, groaning when Seb opens up for him. They make out for a minute or two before Chris pulls back a tad, bumping their noses together as a hand creeps back down to Sebastian’s pelvis. 

“Welll,” Chris drawls, “Best I’d better get started. Wouldn’t want to leave out anything important.”

“Absolutely.” Seb bucks up when Chris’s hand finds it’s mark. “We both know how thorough you are.”

“Yep.” Chris’s grin is blinding, and _Christ_ he’s beautiful. 

And he’s all Sebastian’s.

Before he starts getting too sappy, Seb rolls his eyes, wiggling the hand out from behind his head to push at Chris’s shoulders. “Yeah, yeah.” He shivers when the other man winks and slides back down his body. “Get to work, Picasso.”

Chris does.


	13. Sunshine Afternoon- Sam/T'Challa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Aren't cats supposed to hate water?"

The waterfall was beautiful. 

Not that there was ever any doubt. Everything in Wakanda was beautiful. The animals, the architecture, the people. 

Especially the people, but Sam was absolutely _not_ going to go there. 

So yeah, the waterfall was beautiful. Magnificent, spectacular, a thing of art.

That didn’t stop it from being cold as fuck.

Sam shuddered, wrapping his arms tighter across his bare torso as he withdrew his now freezing foot from the glistening pool. Why the hell was he out here, buck ass naked again? 

Oh, right. _Steve._

Sam scowled, kicking at the water sulkily. “ _You deserve some time off,_ he says. _Go for a swim,_ he says. _It won’t kill you._ ” He snorted derisively. Like the main reason Steve hadn’t kicked him out into the middle of the bumfuck jungle was so he could suck face with Barnes uninterrupted. 

“As an American man once told me, your face is going to stay like that.”

Sam threw a withering glare over his shoulder, subtly sliding his hands down to cover his pelvis. “Tell me that again after my balls shrivel and drop off.” T’Challa simply smirked in response, folding the last of his clothing into a neat pile beside one of the stones bracketing the spring. 

“Please, Samuel. I believe we are past the point of modesty by now. It is nothing I have not seen before.” He tilted his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mischief. “In fact, I do believe there isn’t _anything_ of yours I have not seen by now.”

Sam spun around, thrusting out an accusing finger in his direction even as his other hand remained cupped around his junk. “You shut your damn face. I knew you and Steve becoming pals was a shitty idea.” 

T’Challa arched an elegant eyebrow, moving past Sam and stepping gracefully into the pool. The smooth expanse of his back and shoulder blades flexed as he moved, and the afternoon sun and drops of water made his skin look utterly delectable.

And goddamn, did Sam’s dick ever appreciate the view. 

Once T’Challa had waded in to the waist he turned back to Sam, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfactory sigh. “It is only fair, considering you have become such good friends  
with Shuri. I am beginning to suspect the two of you are plotting against me.” And well okay, he’s not exactly wrong about that.

“Prove it.”

T’Challa’s other eyebrow joined the first. “Okoye reports that she has witnessed you exchanging cat videos. Something about kittens tangling themselves in yarn,” and there was that smirk again. “Really Sam, if you wanted to see me tied up all you had to do was ask.”

And okay, that wasn’t something Sam had thought of before, but now he was having _ideas._

T’Challa chuckled at his slack-jawed expression, extending a hand in invitation. “Come. It is no fun swimming alone.”

Muttering to himself, and fighting against the raging flush darkening his cheeks, Sam grasped the king’s hand in his, biting back a smile when the other man tangled their fingers together. He allowed himself to be tugged further into the water until he was pressed against T’Challa’s wet skin.

“Better?” T’Challa asked quietly, tipping his forehead to brush against Sam’s.

Sam swallowed roughly, feeling heat shoot through his groin. “Yeah. Perfect.” Then he grinned. ”Hey, isn’t it like a written law that cats hate water?” 

“Aren’t birds supposed to like it instead of squawking at the temperature?"

Sam flicked a wet nipple, face splitting when T’Challa let out a contented hum. “Man, shut up.” 

“If you insist.” The king leaned forward to press a soft kiss against the other man’s lips, humming again when Sam circled the same nipple with his thumb. The water rippled beneath them as he brought his free hand up to cradle Sam’s hip. “I have seen your movies. This would be considered an acceptable method, yes?”

Sam dipped his head, licking at the seam of T’Challa’s lips and clutching at the small of his back. They parted several heated moments later, and Sam’s face split at the glazed expression on his lover’s face. 

“Eh, it’s all right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come stalk me on [Tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/edible-crayon)


End file.
